


So To Speak

by days_of_storm



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a cold. John has to face the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So To Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/gifts).



> This is a late birthday present for Anarion :) It's set in the Eye of the Beholder Verse, but can be read as a standalone.

 

When Sherlock sneezed, John stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and praying that Sherlock wouldn’t get sick. For a moment, he wondered if he could have inhaled something which had caused an allergic reaction, but he was fairly sure that an allergy-sneeze sounded different.

When he sneezed again, twice in a row, John started to make a mental list of must-haves. That night he stocked up on tea, milk, honey, tissues, hand-sanitizer, energy bars, apples and lube. The next three days he spent forcing all of those things on Sherlock, expect for the latter. The lube he placed on Sherlock’s night stand in the hopes of motivating him to get better faster. There would be no sex as long as Sherlock coughed so hard that he turned lightly blue. John then forced him to take a long bath and forbade him to talk. Sherlock spent half a day complaining that he wasn’t allowed to talk until John placed his hand over Sherlock’s mouth and then kissed the back of his hand. “You’ll get better if you stay quiet.”

Sherlock inhaled deeply and mumbled something against John’s hand.

“Just. Shut. Up.”

“Hmm.”

***

The cough got better and after two more days in bed, Sherlock finally found the energy to go into the kitchen where he waited patiently for John to make him tea.

“You know that you could just make some yourself?” John commented as he placed a mug in front of Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged and John pressed a kiss to his head. “Lazy bastard,” he said affectionately.

***

It was getting late and while John had taken a shower, Sherlock had demonstratively moved the lube onto John’s night stand, had succeeded on stealing half a pastry from his plate when John wasn’t looking during tea. Now he was lying on the couch looking almost well again, but he hadn’t said a single word all day.

“Are you okay?” John asked, closing the book he had been reading until the thought of Sherlock not speaking had started gnawing at his thoughts.

Sherlock inhaled, sighed loudly and nodded curtly.

“Okay,” John picked up the book again, but found that this wouldn’t do. It was one thing to forbid Sherlock to speak so he wouldn’t cough his lungs out and an entirely different thing if Sherlock remained silent even though nothing should keep him from talking. There wasn’t a case and he wasn’t in one of his black moods. He should be jabbering away, talking about strange cases he had solved in the past, about Mrs Hudson’s new friend who was clearly not actually from Edinburgh, about being bored, about something, anything.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock didn’t move. At least John didn’t really have to worry then. Sherlock tended to ignore him only on two occasions; one was when he had done something wrong or stupid and hoped that John would just let it pass if he pretended to be dead, and the other was when he was embarrassed about something. And since John was fairly sure that Sherlock hadn’t set fire to anything or accidentally broken something during an experiment, it could only be the latter.

“Why are you not talking to me?”

Sherlock pretended to be a little bit deader. John couldn’t help but grin.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Sherlock snapped; at least John thought that was what he had just said. Sherlock was hoarse and his voice was even deeper than usual and much rougher. For a second John was simply amused, but when Sherlock started to chide him, he realised that Sherlock’s voice caused an entirely different reaction as well.

“I don’t know why you are amused. I have not spoken in more than two days and I was not well, as you know. I’d prefer to not talk until I sound like myself again.”

John was silent, hoping that Sherlock would keep on talking after all. Something about that must have given him away, because after a pause Sherlock sat up on the couch and faced him. John could tell that he was definitely feeling much better when Sherlock’s penetrating stare met his eyes, and then slowly moved down his body until he halted at the book which John had carefully placed over his lap.

“Interesting,” Sherlock said, making it all worse.

“What is?” John sounded breathless and he wondered when his body had decided to betray him as badly as it did now.

Sherlock smirked and leaned forward. “I will not do you the favour and explain my deduction to you.”

“You don’t really have to,” John remarked drily, hoping dearly that Sherlock would not play this hand against him.

“What if talking in this state is harmful?”

“If you don’t scream you should be okay,” John answered, being more than aware of the flush that was creeping into his face.

Sherlock had the audacity to bite his lower lip. “I knew a couple of days would be _hard_ on you. Is that the real reason why you slept in your old room? Because you were afraid …”

“Nope,” John grinned, ignoring Sherlock’s innuendo. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? But no, I preferred not catching what you had.”

“One does not cancel out the other, you are aware of that, right?” Sherlock looked altogether too smug for someone who was talking like he was. It would be hilarious on anyone, but on Sherlock it sounded like he was ready to take this to the bedroom any second now. John hoped he would.

“I didn’t avoid touching you out of concern for you,” John lied. “I didn’t touch you because I didn’t want to get sick. I do have priorities, you know?”

Sherlock snorted and looked back down where the book was hiding what John knew was a rather impressive erection. “Your priorities have always been interesting,” Sherlock said while he leaned back, letting his legs fall open. He sounded like his voice might give out entirely and John still did not understand how his voice could have such an effect on him … or, well, parts of him.

John licked his lips, willing Sherlock to make the first move. What he did was something altogether unexpected. He suddenly sat up straight again and narrowed his eyes, watching John’s face intently. “Are you doing this so I will actually lose my voice?”

John sat there, blinking stupidly at Sherlock, wondering whether he might not be quite as well again as he had hoped. Instead of dignifying Sherlock’s question with an answer, he picked up the book and opened it with a little more force than strictly necessary while giving Sherlock a pointed look. Then he raised the book high enough so he could hide his face from him.

For a while it was very quiet in the living room. Then Sherlock cleared his throat. Twice. John continued to ‘read.’

“Sorry.”

John allowed himself a small smile. Nothing which Sherlock could see.

“John?”

John sniffed and said nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

A lengthy inhale, and silence followed.

“John! Don’t be like that. I apologised.”

“Mhm.” John tried to not enjoy this too much. He failed.

Sherlock growled in frustration and eventually did what John had intended for him to do all along. He stood up and walked over, taking the book from John’s hands. When he saw John’s face, Sherlock crinkled his nose. “You _are_ doing this on purpose.”

“This? Yes. Though not the other thing. Sherlock, how could you even think for one second that I would hope for your voice to disappear? There is a reason why I made you stay quiet in the first place.”

Sherlock at least looked like he was regretting what he had said, but John knew that his brain was already somewhere else entirely.

“So my voice is making you hard?”

John grinned. “Apparently.”

“It doesn’t usually have that effect on you.”

John thought back at the numerous occasions when Sherlock grunted in frustration or exhaustion, when he gasped, when he called his name breathlessly, when he stood too close for his own good to whisper into his ear when adrenaline was already pumping through his body. No, Sherlock’s voice never had any sort of physical effect on him whatsoever.

“ _Usually_ ,” he pronounced the word carefully, watching Sherlock’s eyes go wide. John congratulated himself on actually keeping this piece of information from Sherlock, who was usually too wound up in the case to notice any physical reaction John might or might not have – although that depended on the situation as well. Occasionally, Sherlock was being purposefully sexy and that was when John unfailingly had physical reactions. He grinned harder.

“John?”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Can I make a proposition?”

John didn’t know whether his grin could get any wider, but he was sure that it was. He had won.

“You can, but it doesn’t mean that …”

“Fine.” Sherlock huffed. “I apologise for thinking that you wanted me to lose my voice. I did not think this through. No, I thought too much about it, I think, reaching a conclusion which ….”

“Sherlock!”

“What?”

“Are you going to ask or not.” John pointedly looked at Sherlock’s middle and then back up.

“Bedroom?”

John’s face fell and immediately, Sherlock started to panic internally; a reaction which was very visible in his eyes. John felt a tiny bit bad for playing him like this, but he did not get the chance often, and once Sherlock’s health was restored entirely, his self-esteem would be back full force and then it would be very hard for him to manipulate him into spectacular sex. Just when Sherlock inhaled sharply, possibly to apologise even though he had no idea what he had done wrong, probably to tell John to cut it out, John held out a hand towards Sherlock. It was a safe gesture. Neither of them would ever fool around with that. Sherlock stepped closer and took it, unsure whether he should just stand there or pull John upright. He tugged carefully, and John had to smile. “Come here,” he said quietly, pulling Sherlock even closer. Then he hooked his index finger in the neck of Sherlock’s t-shirt and pulled him down, kissing his dry lips softly. “You need to drink more water,” he said gently, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, clearly hoping for more without being demanding.

“Not the bedroom,” John said with a smile and pushed up Sherlock’s t-shirt.

“Oh,” Sherlock was probably just expressing surprise, but to John it sounded like something else entirely.

John grabbed Sherlock’s buttocks, making him yelp in surprise, and pulled him in closer. Since his hands were otherwise occupied, he pressed his mouth against Sherlock’s growing erection. He was being wonderfully responsive, and very soon he had a very vocal Sherlock grabbing his shoulders for support, slowly rocking back and forth against his lips.

John finally pulled down Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms, and realised that he desperately needed some room for his own erection when he let him slide into his mouth.

“John!” Sherlock’s fingers dug into John’s shoulders and he winced in pain.

“Turn around,” John murmured, letting go of Sherlock to open his own trousers, he pushed them and his underwear down to his knees and then grabbed Sherlock’s hips and pulled him down into his lap. They both groaned and John desperately tried to push away the fabric of Sherlock’s dressing gown which hindered his access to Sherlock’s skin. He ended up getting his hands tangled and Sherlock got up again and stripped naked faster than John could ask for it. Then he sat back down, trapping John’s erection between John’s stomach and his butt, making John curse and bite his shoulder. But he did want to apologise, so he started to move, his hands on the arms of the chair, causing just enough friction for John to start cursing.

It took John a minute until he remembered that he had wanted to touch Sherlock, and hear him react before Sherlock had hijacked the entire plan and started what John could only describe as a reversed dry-hump. He burst out laughing and pressed his face against Sherlock’s back, sneaking both arms around him in order to finally take hold of Sherlock’s cock with both hands. The moan that escaped Sherlock made John whimper and the desperate grunt which followed when John’s hands were clearly too dry to properly stroke Sherlock got him close much faster than he liked.

“John!”

“Hmm?”

“Lube.”

“Say that again!”

“We need lube.”

John screwed his eyes close and simply held on, not even trying to stroke Sherlock while he still rocked against him.

“Oh god.”

Sherlock huffed, and moved faster.

“You surprise me, John,” he said, slightly breathless but still very much in control of everything, except for the sound of his voice.

“Wha…” John decided then that not talking was indeed helpful occasionally.

“You were so focused on confusing me that you forgot that this would be much easier with lube.”

John was sure that he was being purposefully sexy now, well, in addition to jerking him off, with his butt.

Sherlock suddenly chuckled and stopped moving for a moment, causing John to let go of Sherlock’s cock and grab his hips, trying to get him to move again. “Sherlock, please!”

“I do think that this should be tested, scientifically, so to speak.”

John wondered whether it was worth the effort to push Sherlock off the chair to make room for his own hands while he talked, but Sherlock began moving again before he could find the strength.

“If my voice still sounds like this tomorrow I think we should test whether I can get you to come without either of us touching you.”

That idea was enough for John to lose it. He came all over himself and Sherlock’s back, and Sherlock laughed silently. John was marginally aware of the fact that Sherlock was amused, and that this meant that he now had the upper hand again, but in this minute he could do very little about it, and the thought that this turn of events would definitely lead them into the shower made him very happy indeed. There was always time to take back control; especially now that Sherlock was hard and John had just come and would definitely be less easily influenced by Sherlock’s voice …or so he hoped.


End file.
